


Retreat

by maddmaddworld



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:05:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddmaddworld/pseuds/maddmaddworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss needs to get away, and that means spending the summer at her best friend Finnick’s beach house. Who she finds when she gets there may turn her whole summer—and life—upside down.</p>
<p>Written for Prompts In Panem, Round 3, Day 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retreat

“It’s gonna be great! I’m so excited to see you! We’re going to have the best summer ever, Katniss. Wear your _fuck-me-pumps_ , I’m throwing a beach party tonight in honor of your arrival and I know there’s someone who wants to see you.”

 

I have no idea who Finnick Odair is talking about - but that doesn’t stop me from pulling out my cute nude heels and my favorite blue sundress to wear just in case.

 

“Alright, Finn, I’m going to change and head out. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

 

“Whoooo! Alright, bitches, Everdeen will be here shortly. Get your shit together!” he shouts - I assume to his house staff - who’ve probably been prepping for this party since 6AM. He’s a great boss and an even better man, _but_ I have a hunch that the Bloody Marys have already started flowing in the Odair household. “Alright, Katniss, everything will be ready when you get here. I love you, Kid. I’m gonna go find my beautiful wife and quite possibly have another drink.”

  
Finnick’s admission elicits a smile from me, “Don’t get too shitfaced before I get there, Finnick. I don’t want you puking all over me.”

 

“I would NEVER! Well, except that one time in college, but we don’t speak about that. Love you, Kat. Drive safe.”

We tease, but Finnick and I have always taken care of each other. It’ll be nice to get away for the summer.

 

“I will. I love you, too.”

 

I shake my head at his antics as I end the call, bustling around my room to gather the rest of my belongings and shove them into my suitcase. I quickly change into the sundress and a pair of flip flops, tying my hair into a braid. On my way out the door, I grab the heels for later.

 

Finnick’s 9.5 million dollar estate is a far cry from my shitty West Village apartment in New York, but after the year I’ve had, it’s time for a change. Spending the summer poolside in Monmouth Beach, New Jersey, will do just fine. I managed to secure a job at the Grand Hyatt for the summer, and my sister Prim will be occupied by her residency in Maine. With Uncle Haymitch off my back and Mother safely tucked away in an assisted living facility, I only have to care for myself. It’s an exhilarating feeling–one I’ve never experienced.

 

* * *

 

When I pull up to the Odair residence, I’m immediately approached by Darius, the butler, who greets me with a hug.  The kind man takes my keys and tells me to head inside. Knowing Darius, my car will be parked in the garage and my bags will be delivered to my room before I ever step foot in the gigantic house. I don’t know how he does it, but I stopped questioning it years ago.

 

Finnick comes from money, and took over his family’s frozen fish company five years ago. The house, and the house staff, have been in the family for years. When we were kids we’d spend weeks at a time here, playing on the beach, and never lifting a finger for ourselves. Thankfully, we both grew out of that self-involved phase. We both went to NYU. I pursued a teaching degree and Finn a business degree. He also took the second-in-command position at the fish company, all of this at age eighteen. He got everything he’s ever wanted, including the girl of his dreams.

 

I got a rat-infested Manhattan apartment, an abusive ex-boyfriend (with a restraining order), and as many jobs as I could handle to make ends meet. After my father died, Primrose and I were shipped off to live with our Uncle Haymitch while our mother “recovered from the loss”. I stopped chasing my dreams and dropped out of NYU as soon as I realized Prim wasn’t going to be able to pay for med school if I was taking all of Haymitch’s _reluctantly-given_ tuition money for myself. That didn’t stop me from moving out of his house as fast as I could at eighteen, though. I love the man, but one can only handle so many years with a functioning alcoholic.

 

But, that’s another story entirely.

 

I walk up the pristine stone steps into the beach house. Floor-to-ceiling windows and an open layout give the place a modern feel. It’s white and blue and…nautical. It’s very Finnick. A large shield with the Odair family crest and an imposing, _very dangerous_ trident hang in the living room above the 84-inch television. On the opposite wall, a huge swordfish, caught by a ten-year-old Finnick, is mounted. They really do love their fish around here.

 

As I examine the trident, giggles get the best of me as I recall the memory of the summer I was fifteen (Finn, ever older, and ”wiser”- was seventeen). A neighboring family with three boys hung out with us all summer. Finnick and I decided it would be a great idea to create a battle with the shield and the trident. The youngest of the three boys—the one I was closest with—accidentally stabbed his brother in the chest with the trident. We spent that afternoon in the hospital. It wasn’t the only hospital trip that summer. Those three boys, Finnick, and I had the best summer of our lives. My father died that winter, and my world was turned upside down.

 

I squeak in excitement and slide my flip flops off in the doorway. I walk over to the plush, white carpet, dig my toes into the cushy fabric and sigh loudly. _I love this house._

 

“God, if carpet makes you THAT happy, you REALLY need to get laid.”

 

Finnick strides down the steps that lead to the second level of the house and runs to me, pulling me into a tight bear hug. “Shut up,” I reply, tucking my face into his chest and wrapping my arms tightly around him. He smells like saltwater. I missed my best friend, and I tell him as much.   
  
“I missed you, too, Katniss. Come here,” he sighs happily and pulls away from me, grabbing my hands and leading me to the kitchen. It’s every cook’s dream-marble countertops, shiny chrome appliances, and tons of work space. Standing at the island pouring drinks, are Finnick’s wife, Annie, and a man I don’t recognize.

  
What I do recognize is that he is the most gorgeous specimen of man I have ever seen. He’s moderately tall, and built without being disgustingly over-muscular. His blond curls swoop down over his forehead, and I have to physically resist the urge to push them away from his eyes.  His eyes are so incredibly blue that I wonder for a moment if they’re actually real. His tank top and jeans hug every curve, and I would kill to know what his ass feels like in my hands. When he looks up, he gives me a smile that could light the entire Eiffel Tower. He’s looking at me like he knows something I don’t.

 

I hesitate for only a second before approaching him and sticking out my hand, “Katniss Everdeen.”

 

He pauses, clears his throat and his eyes shift down quickly, appearing upset, before composing himself and placing his hand in mine. “Uhh…Peeta Mellark.”

 

I’m surprised at his sudden change in demeanor, but I pull myself together quickly. “Nice to meet you, Peeta Mellark.” I smile sweetly at him and drop his hand before turning to greet Annie. I notice a look of shock cross Finnick’s face, and the way that Annie mouths _I’m so sorry_ to Peeta, but I have no idea what she could be apologizing for.

 

Peeta gives me a small, sad smile as I pull Annie into a hug. “…You too,” he mumbles.

* * *

 

"Your cheesecake sucks."

 

Peeta Mellark is a dick, I decide. He may have an ass like a Greek God and arms that deserve sonnets written about them, but Peeta Mellark is a rude, snarky asshole.

 

I’m about three hours and four drinks in when I come to this conclusion. I never did pull my fuck-me-pumps out of my car, so I’m standing on Finnick’s back porch barefoot, with a vodka soda in hand, discussing pastries with Peeta Mellark. By this point, other guests have arrived and are floating around the beach house, already as drunk as I am. So, plenty of people to talk to, but I haven’t been able to pull myself away from this self-righteous prick since the moment I met him. We’ve fought about sports, television, movies, and now baking. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying myself -and the view - even if he is a dick.

 

Peeta scoffs at my cheesecake comment. “My cheesecake is awesome, but the bread is better. No one comes in for the fucking bread, they all come in, drunk off the street, for sweet things.” He’s defending the cheesecake at Mellark Bakery, an overpriced, overrated tourist trap located in Times Square. He owns the place, apparently. It’s been in his family for years.

 

“Well, when the ugly yellow and red sign lights up half the street and only advertises cake and sweets, I don’t know why you’d expect any different. I know I’ve never had the bread there. Besides, I prefer Marvel’s in Greenwich Village when I need good bread.”

 

“First, it’s TIMES SQUARE—what do you expect? I’d make no money if I advertised for sourdough and French bread. Secondly, my cheesecake is ten times better than Marvel’s and you fucking know it, and if you ever actually tried my bread you’d say the same about it, too.”

 

I snort. Even though I do prefer Mellark’s over Marvel’s (and I’ll never admit it now), I’m having too much fun making this asshole feel like crap. “If I’m forced to spend time in the Square, I’d rather go down 47th to the Pig & Whistle and have a shitty ten dollar beer, actually.”

 

If looks could kill, I’d be dead meat. And then, suddenly, that look is gone. His eyes become laced with sadness and he shakes his head slightly. “You would.”

 

I crease my brow and frown at him. “What does _that_ mean?” _What the hell is this dickwad insinuating?_

 

“Nothing.” He spits out, disgust in his tone, “Just that you’ve become a hoity-toity, rich, New York City socialite—even if you don’t look it—and you’re too good to go down to Chaff’s and drink cheap beer and play foosball.” He’s angry. Legitimately angry, and I have no idea what I did to cause it. Five seconds ago we were having a fun, bantering argument. Not to mention how absolutely _wrong_ his statement is. And it’s not like the Pig  & Whistle is a high-class establishment…

 

“Ex—excuse me? Did I do something to personally offend you, Peeta? Because you just met me and know jack shit about me, and you’re passing an awful lot of judgment.” I’m furious. How dare he throw labels at me? How dare he pass judgment on anything in my life? He doesn’t know me! We just met three hours ago!

 

Peeta steps back, putting his hands out in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry. Have a great night, Katniss.” He gives me another sad smile, regret or maybe even an apology clear in his baby blues, before grabbing a beer from the cooler next to him and walking away.

 

I’m so fucking confused.

 

* * *

 

 

I do the only thing I can think of. I storm over to the other side of the porch and interrupt Finnick’s conversation with one of our college buddies, Gale. “What the fuck is up with Mellark?”

 

Gale shakes his head at me and pulls me in for a sideways hug while I stare down Finnick. Finnick looks confused and puts his arms out in question, splashing his beer on the porch. “What do you mean?”

 

After hugging him back, I step away from Gale and set my drink down on the nearest table. My arms flail wildly as I rant, “I mean he just insulted me and I called him out on it, and he turned into a sad little puppy dog and walked off. What the fuck did I ever do to him, huh?” I’m huffing and pulling at my dress and pushing strands of hair away from my face. Peeta- _fucking_ -Mellark has gotten under my skin. I hate it.

 

Gale cocks his head at me. “You really don’t remember him?”

 

I throw a confused look at Gale. “What do you mean?”

Finnick jumps in, “Katniss, you are the dumbest smart girl I’ve ever met.”

 

I throw my arms up in surrender. Drunk men speaking in code is not helping me sort this out. “Finn, what the fuck are you talking about?”

 

Finn sighs, pulls me to the nearest couch and sits us down, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I feel like a twelve-year-old being sat down for the birds and the bees discussion. “Remember that summer when we were fifteen, and you guys came out for two weeks? We went boating with another family and you spent the entire time gallivanting around with their youngest son?”

 

I feel my stomach plummet. “Yah, what the fuck was that kid’s name? He stabbed his brother with the trident. We baked sugar cookies and we had to go to the ER when I tried to teach him how to use a bow and arrow and he shot himself in the foot. What does that have to do with Mellark?”

 

Finnick furrows his brow and fixes me with a _You’re-Fucking-Dumb_ look, “Katniss.”

 

It only takes a second for me to catch up. I close my eyes and recall the blond boy with forget-me-not blue eyes who gave me the best summer vacation of my life. My father died that winter. I cringe and open my eyes. “Oh.”

 

Finnick slaps me on the back and gives me his best shit-eating grin. “Yup.”

 

“Oh shit.”

 

“Yes. And as far as I know, he’s had a thing for you ever since, so you not even bothering to remember his name has probably put him in a spectacular mood.” He starts poking his head around, searching for Peeta in the immense crowd that has formed.

 

I falter, “That was the year—“

 

But Finn cuts me off. He already knows what I’m going to say. “I know that. He doesn’t.” He stands, pulls me up by my hands and then grabs me by the shoulders. He spins me in Peeta’s general direction and places a brotherly kiss on the crown of my head before pushing me toward him. “Now go be a good girl and apologize. He’s only been waiting ten years to talk to you again.”

 

“Great, so…no pressure.”

 

Gale, ever helpful, pats me on the shoulder and silently chuckles into his beer.

 

I stand up straight and head toward Peeta, who is leaning against the back porch, looking somber and utterly alone. I would find it slightly pathetic if it weren’t my own damn fault. I see Glimmer Mitchell gearing up to approach him, pushing up her boobs, and fixing her hair, so I scamper over as quickly as I can. That bitch can stay far, far away from Peeta Mellark. 

 

He turns as I approach and raises his eyebrows to me in greeting. He quickly turns around and looks back out at the ocean, taking a long, slow drink from his beer. I huff and lean against the railing beside him. I’m really awful at apologizing.  “Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

I puff out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and force myself to begin. “Look, Peeta, I’m sorry about before. It’s been brought to my attention that I’m a complete asshole.” I wish I had a drink in my hand. Or food. Or a cigarette. Anything to stop me from wringing my fingers together and staring down at the sandy beach like an idiot.

 

Peeta sighs and moves to look at me. He shifts so he’s standing with one muscular arm against the railing, one foot crossed over the other. The sunset glows behind him. He’s absolutely gorgeous. I want to lean forward and run my tongue along the protruding vein on his sun-kissed neck.

 

“You really don’t remember me at all, do you?”

I stutter, “I do! I do, it’s just—the winter after we came back from that trip, my dad was killed in an accident at the factory. I was trying to survive. I stopped trying to think about happy times and the cute boy who stole my first kiss under the kayak rack at the pier.”

 

_Am I flirting? Fuck. I’m flirting. Not very well, I might add…_

Peeta lets out a small chuckle. “Well, at least you remember that. Sorry about your dad.”He smiles and I shift just slightly closer to him. He radiates heat. It contrasts nicely with the cool summer breeze.

 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

 

The silence stretches on after that. I’m not sure what to do, but I really, really don’t want him to walk away. I know that Glimmer has been eyeing him all night and I don’t want him to go home with her. _I want him to go home with me._ I really, really do. Bickering with him all night has been better than the last ten dates I’ve gone on. Plus, that ass really is magnificent.

 

“Um…do…do you wanna get a drink and go down to the pier?”

 

He grins at me, a slightly surprised look on his face. “I’d love to.” 

* * *

 

We walk hand-in-hand down the pier, away from the raucous party at Finnick’s. The sun has set, taking with it most of the beach’s patrons. It’s quiet and peaceful. Well, except for Peeta and I bickering about bread. I’m more comfortable around him than I have been with anyone in a long, long time. We finished our drinks about halfway down the beach, tossing the red Solo cups into the nearest recycling bins. _Save the planet, or something._   I just wanted a free hand to hold his with. It’s soft, but strong. I can feel the calluses he has from years of working in the bakery.

  
“Seriously, though, is Marvel’s bakery really better than mine?”

 

I open my mouth with every intention of lying to him, but instead the truth pours out. “No. I go into your bakery at least once a week to get cheese buns and usually walk out with a slice of cake or a loaf of whatever’s fresh. I might have an addiction.”

 

He laughs and turns to face me, our hands still connected. He gives me an incredulous look as he continues to chuckle happily, his free hand covering his mouth. “Oh my god, you’re Braid Girl!”

 

“I’m what?”

 

Peeta tries to control his laughter as he explains, “Rue, my lead cashier, says there’s this girl with a braid who comes in like clockwork every Friday morning for a dozen cheese buns. It’s totally you!”

 

“Um,” Well, shit. “Yes. It is. I love Rue, she’s adorable.” _And that little girl is gonna hear it from me the next time I see her._

 

“She’s great, isn’t she? She’s going to end up running the place one day. I can’t function without her.” The genuine adoration he has for the young girl is apparent.

 

He stops short for a second and pulls me in front of him. “I’m really sorry.”

 

“For what?” What could he possibly be apologizing for?

 

“For calling you a hoity-toity, rich, New York socialite…”

 

Oh. That. “Right. Umm. Well, thanks.”

 

“Really, I didn’t mean it. I just got upset because you didn’t remember me, and I should have just told you who I was instead of being a little bitch about it.”

 

“Really, Peeta. It’s okay, I would have been upset if it were me. But…just so you know…I’m not rich. Or a socialite. I, um, I’m actually pretty broke and I had to get a job out here this summer just to make sure I can still afford my apartment. So…just…so you know…”I trail off. If this is going to end with me being too broke for him, it’s better to find out now, right?

 

“Katniss, I really could care less how much money you have.”

 

I let out a huge sigh of relief. The silence rolls over us again. I’m out of words. All I can think about is pulling him to me and kissing him senseless. His mouth is curled into a smirk as he looks at me. I hope he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

 

“Peeta?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can—um—I really want—“

 

He cuts me off with his mouth – his lips pressing firmly to mine. I let out an embarrassing groan, placing one arm around his neck and letting the other slide down his muscular shoulder and land on his bicep, gripping him tightly. His lips glide over mine, soft and sweet. When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, hesitantly requesting permission to enter, I grin against his lips before allowing him better access.

 

His arms wrap around me and he pulls me even closer. My bare feet dig into the sand as I push up, trying to eliminate all the space between us. I am completely at this man’s mercy and I have absolutely no problem with that.

 

He feels so good, so impossibly good, that when he pulls away I make an unhappy moan. He smiles and places his forehead against mine. “You are a much better kisser now than when you were fifteen,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes and laughs. “I mean, I know it was my first kiss, but I have to say age has definitely benefitted you in that department.”

 

“Well, thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

He leans down and kisses me again, bringing his hand up to cup my cheek. I could get lost in this man, but I won’t. Not yet. I pull away slightly. “Peeta?”

 

His eyes are closed and he’s smiling, content. “Yes, ma’am?”

 

I look down and pull my hands away from his neck and arms, playing with the three buttons on his tank top. “How long are you in Monmouth?” It’s not like I can’t drive home to Manhattan to see him— _a bit presumptuous, aren’t we, Katniss_ —but I’m supposed to be letting go of that side of my life for the summer. It’s supposed to help me ‘refocus on what’s important’.

 

“I’m training my crew to run the place without me while I work on a franchise out here. I’ll be back and forth a bit, but I’m planning on calling my parents’ beach house home until August. How long are you in Monmouth?”

 

“All summer, I go back to Manhattan the first week of September.”

 

“Hmm. Then I guess my next question is when can I take you on a first date?”

 

I raise my eyebrows at him and pull him in for another kiss. We’re both smiling when I pull away. Finnick might be right. This just may be the best summer ever.

 

I owe him—big time.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Kismetff for being my Beta Queen and my cheerleader. 
> 
> Also, the Mellark Bakery in this story is based off of Roxy Deli in Times Square.


End file.
